


These Small Hours

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AOS S4, F/F, Gen, Multi, UA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8258200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: "You came back."





	

**Author's Note:**

> After helping rescue Fitz, Daisy comes back to base for debrief, and takes the opportunity for a moment with Simmons.  
> Near-future fic. Canon compat-ish up to 4x02.

Daisy sighed, and tapped the yellow card impatiently against her fingertips. They were currently explaining to her, in no uncertain terms, that this was the lowest rank Shield had to offer these days. Daisy wished Coulson was in the room – or even May, or Simmons, or Fitz. She could have rolled her eyes and joked how it was just like the good old days.

As it was, Daisy rocked on her feet, and tried not to cast her eyes too often to the hallway, to where Fitz and Simmons were waiting in the medical bay. Fitz was possibly still unconscious. _A little bit too much like the good old days for comfort,_ Daisy thought with a chill, although she took some comfort in reminding herself that their situation was not as dire this time.

“Report back for dinner by 7pm sharp or you will be located and arrested,” her handler finished. The Director grinned and clarified –

“No hard feelings. Just business. You understand.”

“Sure. Can I go now?”

“Of course. Go to your friends.”

Repressing an eye roll and a gag, Daisy stuffed her hands in her pockets and strode out of the room. Head down, walking fast, she made a beeline for the med bay, only to all but run into its guard. He towered over her, unfazed by her surprise, or by the way she scowled up at him.

“Um…Excuse me.”

“You’re not authorised for this area.”

Daisy ground her teeth together, and raised her arms, fists clenched and copious bruises exposed, inches from the guard’s nose. He didn’t flinch, although she could have punched him – even pushed him aside, if she’d wanted it enough. He only eyed her injuries and stepped aside, gesturing to let her through before resuming his position.

The room she first entered was empty of people; there were benches and cabinets and trolleys full of medical supplies, and two stretchers; one, clean and fresh, and the other ruffled and awaiting attention – the one they’d brought Fitz in on.

Turning a corner, Daisy saw another door; this one clear, with the Shield logo frosted into it, and on the other side was the bed where Fitz lay, and a chair pulled up so that Simmons could sit beside him. Daisy knocked, and Simmons had to wave her card – orange, Daisy noted, with an unavoidable whiff of curiosity – over the sensor to let her in.

Simmons waited, still standing and staring as Daisy entered, a complex combination of emotions on her face. Surprise. Hurt. Sorrow. Love.

“You came back,” she murmured.

Daisy shrugged, and let her eyes drop to Fitz’ face as she fiddled with some loose threads on Fitz’ blanket. His face was not as pale as last time, and there were not nearly so many machines. Just a pulse monitor on his finger, and thin green oxygen tubes clipped to his nose. It was not so bad.

“Yeah, well,” Daisy explained. “Someone had to save his self-sacrificial ass.”

“Takes one to know one, I guess.”

A sliver of ice entered Simmons’ tone at that. She stepped closer, and put a hand on Fitz’ chest, next to Daisy’s, forcing Daisy’s attention back to her. Daisy looked up - blushing, feeling both chagrined and guilty when she saw the anguish in Simmons’ expression.

“You going to rip me a new one too?” Daisy wondered, resigned to her fate and deserving of it.

Simmons frowned. “A new what?”

“Are you going to chew me out, like Fitz did?” She was turning it into a challenge now. Why wasn’t Simmons biting back? “Because I’m ready. Lay it on me.”

“Fitz yelled at you? When? Why?”

Simmons retreated a few steps, confused. She wiped at her eyes, in case clearing away the physical remnants of strong emotion that might have leaked out, might help her think more clearly.

“A few weeks back,” Daisy explained, “I met him and Mack on a mission –“

“- yeah, he told me about that –“

“And he chewed me out for abandoning you guys. ‘Turned my back’ I think was the phrase he used.”

Daisy pressed her lips together, smiling bitterly. The accusation was in fact burnt quite clearly into her memory, but Simmons didn’t need to know that. She waited for Simmons to absorb the information – a frown down at Fitz’ face, and a sigh – and before she could figure out her next move, Simmons was already making it for her.

“Let’s get that patched up,” Simmons offered. Non-negotiable.

In silence, Simmons fetched another chair, and a splint and bandaging kit from the cupboards, and set to work. The air between her and Daisy felt stormy with thoughts, and Simmons wondered if they were her own or Daisy’s. Words hovered around her head, and on the tip of her tongue, but she wasn’t sure what to say first. Or even at all. She wondered how she could explain her hurt, or the fact that even though she understood at least something of why Daisy had left like she did, that somehow did not help alleviate it. She wondered if she could ever explain to Daisy, this yearning in her heart, and the ache – beneath the concern and worry and guilt and fear – a simple, somehow not entirely unpleasant ache that had settled in her chest just because of Daisy’s absence.

“He missed you,” she settled on eventually. That way, it could come across as an explanation, a follow-on from their conversation, and she could hide behind it, using Fitz’ emotions instead of her own. But Daisy saw right through it, and somehow, Simmons had already known she would.

“I missed him, too.”

It was not untrue, but nor was it exactly what she meant. Daisy smiled gently, encouraging the interpretation she could already see Simmons making.

Simmons opened her mouth to say something else, but her heart clenched at the thought of that impending vulnerability, so she let it fall. Again in silence, she returned to her work.

Daisy glared, burning curiosity combining with the longing that had haunted her for months, coaxing her to study Simmons closer. To watch the way Simmons blinked a few too many times, frightening off tears, and the way she let her cool fingers brush against Daisy’s bruised skin before tending to it with chemicals or cotton wool. Daisy’s heart sunk. She had a feeling the words Simmons had swallowed down were a request they both knew she would not grant.

_Stay._

Daisy sighed. She should have known this would happen. In fact, she’d been dreading and hoping for it in equal parts ever since running into Mack and Fitz those few weeks ago, and realising that it was a legitimate possibility, that she would be able to see – and perhaps even be fussed over by – Simmons in the not too distant future.

And she wanted to stay. Really, she did. Painfully so, in fact. But every time she thought about it, she remembered the pain of having her heart dashed out on the rocks so many times. She remembered the lost potential, and the way everybody else had moved around after they’d lost Trip and Lincoln, as if they were the ghosts instead. She remembered what Fitz and Simmons had been through, with and without each other. And for the life of her, she could not accept that her desire to stay was enough to warrant that.

Simmons must have known this. It must have been why she had not asked. In the same position, she might even have done the same thing. She understood. But still, it hurt – maybe even worse, for Simmons’ kindness and patience, and the words she was not saying.

 _I missed you._ Daisy could feel it in the heavy silence _,_ no longer suffocating so much as a blanket over them. _I worry about you._ It was in every careful, gentle swipe of the antiseptic, cleansing and numbing, making sure every inch of Daisy’s skin was covered. _I love you._ It was in the way she pulled the bandages tight; snug and firm, as if she could hold Daisy together with the sheer power of her will.

When Simmons was done, Daisy took her arm back and admired her handiwork. She could move, but not too much, and the pressure was oddly soothing.

“Thank you.”

_I love you too._

Simmons could feel it, in the way Daisy smiled, and shuffled so that her head rested against Simmons’ shoulder. It was in the way that she stayed, just a little longer, because she could.


End file.
